


Baker's Dozen

by lessthanthesumofmyparts



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Pre-school teacher, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, M/M, POV Alternating, Slow Build, Slow Burn, hella fluffy like honestly p plotless
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-04-13 14:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4524693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lessthanthesumofmyparts/pseuds/lessthanthesumofmyparts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto Tachibana is a pre-school teacher at Iwatobi Pre-school, when a school trip is canceled last minute he ends up at The Dolphin Bakery, a small bakery owned by ex-Olympian Haruka Nanase. Makoto is instantly smitten and starts stopping by the bakery every morning on his way to work for a cup of coffee and the occasional pastry. As they grow closer Makoto finds it harder and harder to keep his feelings hidden - though Haru has developed some feelings of his own. </p><p>Basically lots of relatively plotless fluff with a happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Planetarium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto's class trip is canceled and they end up in Haru's bakery. Nagisa and Rei make a surprise appearance and Haru is a dork.

Chapter One: The Planetarium

The Dolphin Bakery was a very narrow, nondescript shop situated between a second hand clothing store and an art supply store. It had a blue and white striped awning, with white letters printed on the large front-facing window that read:

The Dolphin Bakery  
pastries · coffee  
cakes made to order

Inside the small bakery, against the large front-facing window, was a counter with four bar-style stools. By the adjacent wall, with two chairs each, there were two small tables. Near the back, facing the window, was a large glass display case housing, on average, three types of cake, five types of cupcake, assorted danishes and turnovers, as well as around eight different types of cookie. Behind said case a cash register and coffee machine rested and a few feet behind them a swinging door lead to a very well-furnished pastry kitchen. When entering The Dolphin Bakery, one was greeted by the sound of a tinkling bell, as well as the smell of vanilla, cinnamon, and whatever cake happened to be in the oven. Once one reached the glass display case they were typically greeted by the level gaze of the owner, who, though typically quite quiet, was nonetheless quite kind.

  
The owner was very young, and, though rather thin, was built like an athlete. When asked about this he admitted that he swam some, and then he usually changed the subject. When you asked the owner of the art supply store, however, she clucked sympathetically and said that he used to be an Olympic swimmer, but after he suffered a chronic injury to his shoulder he was forced to stop swimming and instead he took up baking. This, however, was not quite true. The owner of The Dolphin Bakery swam in the Olympic races for freestyle twice. He injured his shoulder during his training for the third one. When this happened he was given a choice, either he could take a significant amount of physical therapy on top of his training, or he could rest his shoulder and miss his third Olympic race, instead going to the one four years after that. The owner, who was at this point twenty five years old, decided to do neither of these things. He stopped swimming altogether and opened a small bakery with a blue and white awning. The owner of the bakery was very happy with his little shop. He had always wanted to be a chef, but after a few jobs at local restaurants he decided the fast-paced environment felt too much like the pressures of competitive swimming. The owner, when asked if he would ever go back to swimming competitively, answered that he might, but he doubted it. But really he knew that he never would. Not that he hadn’t loved it, but when he had started this new life it had felt like coming home, and after that he decided he wasn’t much for traveling.

  
The Dolphin Bakery had a bit of a rough start, as it is with most small businesses. But now, a year and a bit after opening, it was moderately successful and steadily gaining popularity. This was due, in part, to the fact that the pastries and cakes offered were always fresh and delicious. But the main reason the bakery did so well was the press it had received. About five months after the bakery had opened a food critic stopped by because of a comment one of her friends had made in passing. This food critic had been so impressed by the food that she had immediately written a glowing report for not only the local newspaper but also her online blog, which had quickly garnered customers for the small bakery. On her blog she had written: “Not only are the pastries delicious and all the recipes created by the owner, but the owner himself is incredibly talented for someone so young. He is almost entirely self-taught, and besides his baking prowess, is ridiculously handsome, Honestly if you don’t go in for the amazing food at least stop by for the eye-candy.” This review had, understandably, roused the interest of many. The owner was eternally grateful to this food critic, though less grateful for all the subsequent invitations to dinner that he received. He turned down each with incredible tact, and reminded himself to tell the next food critic to keep their critique solely to the food. The review that had started The Dolphin bakery on it’s road to success was the first of many, and the small shop had recently started gaining more out-of-town clientele. The owner of The Dolphin Bakery was named Haruka Nanase, and he was doing quite well. Quite well indeed.

* * *  
Makoto Tachibana was having a bad day. The planetarium had canceled on him last minute and he was now stuck with fifteen five-year-olds on a cramped bus with a cranky bus driver and an overworked assistant. His assistant, Gou Matsouka, was in the process of breaking the news to the rowdy group of preschoolers while Makoto called the school to ask what he should do with these kids for the next three hours. He heard a collective groan as well as some crying just as the principal picked up.

“Mr. Tachibana, is there a problem?”

“Yes, sir. The planetarium just canceled on me and I already told class D that they could use our classroom today.”

“They canceled?”

“Yes, sir. It was very last minute. I think it had to do with a tech problem or something like that.” Makoto heard the principal sigh deeply on the other side of the line. Meanwhile he could also hear the crying behind him reach a crescendo. He glanced back to Gou and motioned that he was going to step out of the bus. She nodded wearily and he stepped off the bus into a light drizzle. Something crackled on the other side of the phone line. “Sorry sir, what was that?”

“I just asked if there was any way that you could share the classroom with class D.”

“Not easily, sir. They are a full year younger and besides that there just isn’t enough room for nearly thirty students in that room.” Makoto shifted the phone to his other ear and glanced back at the bus in time to see Gou stick her head out of the open door.

“I’ve got an idea,” she mouthed before turning back to the students inside.

“Sir, Ms. Matsouka has an idea.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure yet. Can I call you back in a few?”

“Sure thing. And, Mr. Tachibana, I hope this idea of hers works out.”

“Yes sir,” Makoto hung up and walked back into the bus. It was quieter, with only one student crying and the rest talking normally. Gou was speaking softly with the driver when Makoto tapped her on the shoulder.

“So what’s your idea?”

“Well, there’s this great bakery about a block and a half away from here, and I know we can’t spend three hours there, obviously, but we have the money that we would originally have used for the planetarium, and I was thinking we could use it for cupcakes or something? Once we are there we can plan something a little more permanent, but this way everyone will be happy and we won’t be in this bus anymore.”

“And you know where this bakery is?”

“Yeah I went last week with a few of my friends. It’s a little small, but we should all fit.”

“Okay sounds good, can you get everyone lined up while I call the principal back?”

“Absolutely.”

Makoto glanced down at his phone before calling the principal and pressing it to his ear. He could hear the excitement in the bus build as Gou announced they were going to get cupcakes. Makoto quickly explained what was happening to the principal before hanging up and turning around to find two lines of eager looking five-year-olds standing behind Gou.

“Alright, can you lead the way Ms. Matsouka? Since you know where it is?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Tachibana,” Gou smiled at the class before leaning forward and addressing the class as a whole. “Okay class G, we are going to a bakery now. We are going to walk there, and because it is raining a little we are going to get wet - but that’s okay! We are going to walk in our two lines and watch out for traffic. We will stop and the stop light and walk when Mr. Tachibana and I say you can. We are going to walk safely to get our cupcakes, does everyone understand?” Fifteen small heads bobbed in agreement and Gou spun on her heel before pointing forward and announcing: “We’re off!” She started walking and the two lines of children shuffled after her. Makoto brushed damp hair out of his eyes before starting after the group. He found himself slightly worried about whether or not the bakery would have enough space, or even have enough cupcakes in the flavors they class would want, but he decided those were bridges to be crossed later. For now he focused on keeping his students in their respective lines and paying attention to traffic. They reached the bakery much more quickly than he thought they would, and he watched Gou push the door to the shop open with a sigh of relief about three minutes after they left the bus.

* * *

Haru looked up as the bell on his bakery’s door tinkled softly. It been a pretty slow day for a Friday, and he hadn’t really expected any more customers until noon, when most people took their lunch break. He most certainly had not expected to see fifteen preschoolers rush into his shop followed by a young red-headed woman and a tall, slightly worried-looking, brown-haired young man. The man, who appeared to be a teacher, did a quick head count before saying something quickly to the woman and then approaching Haru and the display case of pastries. Haru realized his mouth was slightly open so he quickly shut it and smoothed his expression before looking up at the man who now stood in front of him.

“Uh,” Haru started. “Can I help you?”

“Yes! Sorry. My name is Makoto Tachibana, this is my class, they are from the Iwatobi preschool. We were supposed to go to the planetarium today but they canceled. Listen I know this may be a bit of an inconvenience, but can we hang out here until we figure out what to do for the next three hours? Oh, and can you sell me fifteen cupcakes?” Makoto glanced down and then back up before shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Uh,” Haru glanced at the ground of preschoolers before turning back to the man in front of him. It flashed through his head that this man looked a bit young to be a teacher, honestly he looked around the same age as Haru. “Sure thing. What flavors do you want?” Makoto visibly breathed a sigh of relief before smiling widely.

“Well,” He started. “What flavors do you have?” Haru pointed down at the glass display case before he started talking.

“I have vanilla and chocolate, both with buttercream icing. I also have lemon curd, chocolate and peanut butter, as well as red velvet. Will that work?”

“Yeah, yeah that sounds great. Do you have enough if I just offer chocolate and vanilla?”

“Yeah I should.” Haru shifted from one foot to the other. Makoto Tachibana made eye contact every time he asked a question, and Haru found himself feeling dumb as he answered them. He didn’t quite know why he felt dumb, but this man was slightly unnerving in his kindness and with the intensity of his gaze. Haru dropped his eyes to the pastries in front of him instead of meeting that green stare.

“Well just tell me what you need when you know,” Haru mumbled before turning to grab a stack of paper plates from next to the cash register. When he looked back up Makoto was already gone, he was now standing in front of his class asking them what flavor cupcake they wanted.

“Okay, okay we need to be quiet in order for this to work,” Makoto announced to the increasingly noisy five-year-olds. They quieted down enough for him to continue, but a few murmurs still escaped the group. “Okay, now I need you to raise your hand when I say the flavor of cupcake you want. You can only raise your hand once and you can’t change your mind after you get the cupcake. Are you guys ready?” Makoto paused for a moment. “Okay, raise your hand if you want vanilla.” Nine little hands shot into the air. Makoto counted quickly and then nodded. “Okay now raise your hand if you want chocolate.” Seven hands waved in the air, Makoto looked dryly at one little girl in the front row for a moment before she lowered her hand and muttered: “Okay I just want vanilla.” Makoto smiled before turning around and walking back toward Haru, who had been watching the whole thing with a sort of fascination.

“Hey,” Makoto said softly, causing Haru to blink a few times before looking up.

“Hey,” he replied slowly.

“May I have nine vanilla cupcakes and six chocolate ones?”

“Yeah, yeah sure.” Haru began laying out paper plates on the counter behind the case of sweets. He glanced back up at Makoto quickly in time to see him check something on his phone. Haru looked down before shaking his head slightly and opening the glass case to take out the cupcakes. He put five vanilla cupcakes on five plates before moving them to the top of the case and lining up four more plates. He filled the four plates and watched out of the corner of his eye as Makoto and the young woman had the students line up in order to receive their cupcakes. He put the last vanilla cupcake on a plate before straightening up and finding himself face to face with the young red headed woman who had entered the shop with Makoto.

“Hi my name is Gou Matsouka, thank you so much for helping us out today.”

“Sure thing,” Haru moved the plates containing the four vanilla cupcakes to the top of the case. “I’ll, uh, I’ll start on the chocolates now,” Haru said before laying out more plates. “Have you been in here before?”

“Yeah! I was in here just last week. I got a slice of cheesecake.”

“Oh, I was just wondering why you decided to come here when the, um, when the planetarium canceled.”

“Yeah, I mean it was so last minute, you know? But I was trying to think of someplace easy to take the kids where we could at least get out of that bus and then I thought of this place! And honestly it’s just so cute and cupcakes are always a favorite. I hope it’s not too much trouble.” Gou smiled at Haru while he moved the plates of chocolate cupcakes to the top of the case.

“No it’s no trouble.” Haru finished moving the plates and looked up at Gou. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Just some napkins.”

“Right.” Haru grabbed a small stack , and, after a seconds deliberation, added another small stack to his handful and handed both to Gou. She smiled before tucking the napkins under her arm and beginning to hand out the chocolate cupcakes. She caught Makoto’s eye and gestured back to Haru. He nodded and approached the counter.

“Thank you so much for letting us stay here. How much do I owe you?” Haru blinked at the question before opening his mouth to speak.

“Oh, right. One sec.” He stepped behind the register and pushed a few keys before looking back up at Makoto. “3,150 yen, please.” Makoto nodded and reached into his pocket before pulling out several notes. He handed Haru 4,000 yen before smiling and turning back to his class. Haru pushed a button to open the cash register before he realized Makoto had stepped away.

“Wait!” Haru called out, “you forgot your change.”

“Please take it to cover any trouble we may have caused, I know this is not your usual Friday schedule.” Haru opened and closed his mouth twice before responding.

“Thank you. But really it was no trouble.”

“Then take it as thanks for helping us out when we were in a bit of a bind.” Makoto smiled again before walking over to his class and talking quietly with Gou. The fifteen children had spread out around the shop. A few sat in the chairs, a few on the floor. Some, being too short for the stools, sat underneath the counter with their backs against the window. One little kid, having finished his chocolate cupcake, approached the glass case behind which Haru sat. This particular kid had icing smeared on his chubby cheeks, as well as in his wavy blonde hair. Haru watched as he came to stand in front of the case of sweets, looking up at Haru while resting his cupcake-covered hand against the glass.

“Hi,” the kid said.

“Hi,” Haru replied.

“What’s your name?”

“Haru, what’s yours?”

“Nagisa.”

“Nice to meet you, Nagisa.”

“Haru who taught you how to make cupcakes?”

“Mostly I taught myself.”

“Can you teach me to make cupcakes?”

“Maybe. Probably not today though.” Haru and the little boy stared at each other. The little boy solemnly sucked on a finger and Haru handed him a napkin. Nagisa took the napkin and scrunched it between his hands.

“Haru what did you do before you baked cupcakes?”

“I swam.”

“Did you swim in races?”

“Yes.”

“Big races?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever swim in the olympics?”

“Yes.” At this point a few more of the kids had inched closer to hear what Haru was saying. A little girl spoke up now:

“How many times did you swim in the olympics?”

“Twice.”

“Did you win?”

“Yes. Once.”

“You won the gold medal?”

“No I won silver.”

“Oh,” the questions paused as Makoto approached them.

“You shouldn’t bother him too much. Sorry for all the questions, Mr. uhh, Mr…”

“Nanase, and I don’t mind the questions. They’re not rude or anything.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind them calling you by your first name?” Haru met Makoto’s eyes once more and he swallowed. His stomach twisted slightly.

“Yeah it’s fine,” he answered a little more quietly. Makoto opened his mouth but before he could say anything a little boy with red-framed glassed stepped next to Nagisa and started asking Haru questions.

“Mr. Nanase, what is your favorite thing to cook?”

“Mackerel, and you can call me Haru.”

“I was told always call adults by their last name.”

“Well I don’t really mind.”

“Oh,” the boy with the red glasses blinked before pressing on. “Mackerel isn’t a pastry.”

“Well it is my favorite thing to eat, so it’s my favorite thing to cook.”

“Well then what’s your second favorite thing to cook?” This time it was a little girl with dark hair and a blue dress.

“Curry.”

“Then what’s your favorite thing to bake?” The kid with red glasses again.

“I like to bake apple turnovers.”

“What’s an apple turnover?” Nagisa asked, pressing a second hand to the glass. Haru pointed to a pastry a little to the right of where Nagisa was standing. Nagisa nodded before turning to the boy with red glasses and pointing to the apple turnover. “See that? Do you know what that tastes like?” The boy with the red glasses shook his head. Nagisa looked back up at Haru. “Haru what does an apple turnover taste like?”

“It tastes like apples and cinnamon and pastry.”

“Hey Haru do you like to eat apple turnovers?”

“Yeah, sometimes.” Most of the class was now crowded around Haru, who absently thought that he would have to clean the glass of the case once the class had left.

“Haru do you have a girlfriend?” Nagisa’s question brought Haru out of his thoughts. He looked at the little blonde boy.

“Uh, no,” he answered as Makoto swooped in once more.

“Okay class G, I think that’s enough personal questions, why don’t you all go check in with Ms. Matsouka? I think she has a game for you.” The kids all turned and shuffled away slowly. A few tossed a “bye Haru” over their shoulder. Haru raised a hand in farewell before turning to Makoto.

“Mr. Nanase, I would like to thank you for your hospitality.”

“Sure, uh, you can call me Haru…” Haru blushed slightly. He didn’t know why, hadn’t he just told around a dozen five year olds to do the same?

“Haru, then, I’m afraid I’m about to ask you for another favor.”

“Um, okay?”

“I’ve been trying to check around, but I have no idea where I can take fifteen five-year-olds for the next two and a half hours. Do you have any ideas?”

“Oh, well I know there are a few playgrounds around here, but I guess that wouldn’t work because of the rain. There’s a museum like eight blocks away.”

“What sort of museum?” As Makoto spoke he tiredly pushed his hair back from his eyes. Haru found himself wishing that the class would leave, not because he didn’t like having them there, but because his stomach was feeling increasingly twisted and his palms felt damp.

“Uh, I think it’s a natural history museum. It’s not big or anything.” Haru shook his head slightly, letting his dark hair fall into his eyes so he could avoid meeting Makoto’s.

“That sounds great, do you know how to get there?”

“Yeah. Do you want directions?”

“That’d be great, do you think you could…” Haru took this opportunity to back towards the door leading to the kitchen.

“I’ll write down directions.” Haru turned on his heel and pushed hurriedly through the swinging door only to sink into his desk chair and stare blankly at his dark computer screen. After a moment he grabbed his notebook and a pen before starting to jot down directions to the natural history museum. Mostly the directions involved landmarks and counting blocks before turning. Haru had a good sense of direction but no real aptitude for remembering street names. He was just finishing up when he heard a soft knock on the swinging door and he looked up to see Makoto poke his head in.

“Hey,” Makoto said quietly. “Actually, the principal of our school just called and said that they figured something out, so we won’t need to go to the museum after all. Sorry for any trouble.” Makoto smiled a little and then stepped into the kitchen area further and leaned against the doorway. “Thanks for all the help though. Oh, and can I have those directions? I would still like to check out that museum.”

“Yeah, here.” Haru passed the directions to Makoto, feeling the paper slip through his fingers. He found sitting in that chair made him feel incredibly small next to Makoto’s tall stature and broad shoulders, but instead of getting up he sunk his shoulders forward slightly and felt his mood slowly worsen. “Those directions,” Haru started again. “There aren’t really street names on them, it’s mostly just directions from here, using landmarks and stuff.”

“Oh, alright. I guess I’ll be coming back then,” Makoto smiled before glancing down at the directions, creasing them once, twice, then tucking them into his pocket and slipping back into the main part of the bakery. Haru shook his head again, rubbing his eyes slightly before getting up and following him out. He found himself looking at two straight lines of small children, all fidgeting slightly. Gou stood in the lead, and Makoto was checking to make sure everyone was in line and no one was leaving anything behind. Haru leaned against the counter and let out a breath he felt as though he had been holding since Makoto had entered the kitchen. After a minute Makoto stood up and walked to stand next to Gou, motioning for the class to be silent by bring one finger to tap on his lips.

“Listen up everyone!” he started. “The rain has gotten worse so the bus driver is coming to pick us up. He will be here any second. We are going back to school where we will be watching a film.” Makoto paused as the kids began to cheer. “Alright, now before we go I want you all to thank Mr… Haru.” Haru could see Makoto cringe slightly at the lack of formality. A chorus of young voices chanted “Thank you Mr. Haru” in varying stages of unison. Haru smiled slightly.

“You’re welcome.” Just then the bus pulled up and Gou pulled open the door and began ushering the students quickly towards it. Makoto stepped hesitantly towards where Haru was leaning against the glass display case.

“Thanks again,” he said.

“Yeah, hey, um, I never asked…” Makoto looked up at him expectantly and Haru felt his stomach flip. “Do you, uh, do you want a cupcake?” Haru felt stupid the moment the question was out. What kind of person asked a grown man if they wanted a cupcake? But Makoto’s face broke into the widest smile Haru had seen yet.

“Thank you, but no,” he huffed out a little laugh. “I might come back for an apple turnover, though.” Haru snapped his mouth shut and felt heat rise in his face as Makoto laughed again, and then, with a wave, stepped out of the shop, into the rain, and onto the waiting bus. Haru shook his head once again, feeling a mixture of relief and regret as he watched the bus disappear into the rain. He watched as the lights outside glowed yellow and orange in the mounting storm, the sky darkening though it was only midday. Haru sighed as he grabbed a spray bottle and rag to wipe the remnants of sticky hand prints off the front of his display case. Looking out at the rain, Haru decided he was in for a slow afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fic! I hope you like it and would really appreciate feedback!!!


	2. Three Creams and Three Sugars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto goes back to the bakery to deliver a thank you note and ends up with a big fat crush on the owner (Miho guest stars bc I love her)

Makoto was nervous. Not that this was a new sensation to him. In all honesty he got nervous quite a lot. But this was a different kind of nervous. A warm kind of nervous. The kind of nervous that made you in equal parts terrified and exhilarated. He didn’t know why he was nervous. He wasn’t doing anything particularly nerve-wracking. It hadn’t even been his idea. It had been Gou’s. The day after what was supposed to be their trip to the planetarium Gou had suggested making a thank you note for the nice baker who had sold them the delicious cupcakes, what had his name been again?

“Haru Nanase,” Makoto had answered without even thinking, then he wondered why that name was still in his mind. Gou hadn’t mentioned his sharp memory though, she had just nodded and started cutting construction paper and instructing the students in drawing and cutting out paper cupcakes. By lunchtime the card was finished. It was lavishly decorated in true preschooler style, the inside filled with a short note neatly printed by Gou, surrounded by the sloppy signatures of all fifteen of Makoto’s students. At the end of the day Gou presented the card to Makoto and asked him to drop it off to the bakery.

“Do you need directions?” She had asked.

“No I should be fine,” Makoto had answered. Now that he was faced with delivering the note, however, he mostly certainly was not fine. He held the thank you note gently, careful not to crease it. His hands shook slightly as he approached the blue and white awning. He had no idea what it was about Haru Nanase that made him so nervous. Something about the quiet man who had so seriously answered his student’s questions. Who had written instructions using little drawing of trees to illustrate how to get to the natural history museum. Makoto took a deep breath and entered the bakery. He could hear the bell go off quietly as he stepped through the doorway and into the warm interior. The smell of vanilla and warm baked goods hit him first. Then his eyes met Haru’s. Haru seemed to have been in the midst of stretching when Makoto had stepped into his shop, and his arms were frozen in place over his head. He slowly lowered them and stood up. Makoto neared the cash register, bringing the thank you note in front of his chest like a shield as he approached. He finally stood in front of the case of baked goods, his hands quivered and he quickly shoved the note towards Haru.

“Hey, uh, I don’t know if you remember me but my class was in here yesterday and they wanted to thank you.” Haru nodded and reached slowly towards the note.  
“I remember you. Makoto Tachibana, right?” Makoto flushed slightly at hearing his full name.

“Yeah,” Makoto smiled a bit too wide. “Yeah that’s me.” Haru studied the notecard seriously, running his fingers over the cut-out cupcakes. Finally he opened the card, slowly reading the words inside. Makoto fidgeted and took around the bakery around him. A woman sat at one of the tables, she was working on a laptop and eating a slice of key lime pie. A man and his son were sitting at the counter, looking out of the window and sharing a small plate of cookies. The young boy’s legs swung from the too-high stool while he munched happily on a chocolate biscuit. Makoto’s eyes returned to Haru, who was still studying the card. A moment later he looked up at Makoto.

“Um, thank you,” Haru said quietly. “Will you please tell your class I said thank you for the lovely card, and that I really liked the drawings of cupcakes.” Makoto smiled and nodded.

“I’ll be sure to tell them.” Makoto’s stomach still buzzed with nerves, but it wasn’t altogether unpleasant. Seeing Haru in person was much less nerve-wracking than Makoto had anticipated. Instead of the cool stare Makoto remembered Haru was simply shy. Makoto’s pulse slowed from the rapid pace he had entered the bakery with. Makoto took a breath before speaking again.

“Actually,” he began. “I also came in to try one of those apple turnovers. They happen to be a favorite of mine, and you said you liked to bake them?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Haru bent down quickly, grabbing a sheet of parchment paper before taking an apple turnover out of the case. “Would you like it warmed up? Or are you just taking it to go?” Makoto hesitated with his answer.

“Warmed up would be great,” he said after a moment’s deliberation. Haru nodded before ducking into the kitchen. Makoto heard the clang of a door and the beep of a timer before Haru reappeared.

“You’re turnover will be ready in a minute or so.”

“Thanks!” Makoto reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “So how much do I owe you?”

“No, no this one’s on the house.” He held his hands up to stop Makoto. “For yesterday and for the card… This one’s on me.” Makoto smiled, and began to tuck away his wallet before thinking better of it.

“Well, at least let me buy a cup of coffee then.” Haru smiled at this.

“Sure thing, how do you take it?” Makoto blanched. He hadn’t realized that the bakery didn’t have a cream and sugar station. He could feel his ears reddening. Makoto had long since grown to accept his embarrassing coffee order, however reciting it to Haru brought back his previous shame.

“Three creams and three sugars, please,” Makoto all but whispered. Haru smiled and looked down. A moment later Makoto realized it was to hide his laughter. Makoto found himself smiling as well. “I know it’s pretty bad.”

“No!” Haru assured him. “No it’s fine.”

“Well how do you take your coffee?” Haru’s mouth quirked at the edges at this question.

“I take my coffee black.”

“Of course you do,” Makoto sighed. “My coffee order is so embarrassing.”

“It’s really not that bad.”

“I guess…”

“And if it bothers you so much you can always just slowly transition to a coffee with less sugar and creamer.”

“I’ve tried! I’ve really tried, but I’m really such a baby. Sometimes I don’t even feel like a real adult. I play with five year olds all day and take my coffee like a dessert.” Haru smiled at this.

“It’s really not that bad,” he repeated. A timer dinged as the words left Haru’s mouth and he quickly excused himself before disappearing once again into the kitchen. He reemerged a moment later with the apple turnover on a white paper plate. “Here’s your turnover.”

“Thank you! And how much do I owe you for the coffee?”

“Right! The coffee comes to 130 yen.” Makoto nodded before fishing in his wallet and pulling out exact change. He dropped it into Haru’s waiting hand, noticing against his will how warm Haru’s palm felt against the tips of his fingers.

“Thanks,” Haru said, passing the turnover to Makoto. Makoto took the plate as the cash register dinged and banged open. Makoto looked down, watching a curl of steam lazily escape the side of the pastry. He blinked in surprise when Haru’s hand came into his view, gently placing his cup of coffee next to him. Makoto wondered again what it was about this quiet bakery owner that made him so nervous. ‘I barely even know the guy,’ Makoto found himself thinking. And he didn’t, their maybe five minutes total of conversation hardly merited an opinion of Haru, let alone such a dramatic physical reaction. Makoto shook himself out of his thoughts, quickly thanked Haru, and grabbed his coffee before moving to the one vacant table. He sank into an empty chair and placed his order on the table before he stretched his long legs under the table. Makoto took a deep breath before wrapping his hands around his coffee and bringing it close to his lips. He sipped carefully, trying not to burn his tongue. The coffee was sweet and flavorful, even if it was embarrassingly beige with all of the creamer. Makoto placed the coffee next to his plate and slowly tore open the apple turnover. More steam curled out of the soft pastry, and a bit of apple fell onto the plate. Makoto took a small bite of the turnover, then he took another. He ate the pastry slowly, brushing his fingers off every few bites.

About halfway through the turnover Makoto took out his phone and started checking his emails, just to give himself something to do other than eat and think about the dark haired baker who was currently doodling on a yellow legal pad. Makoto put on his glasses before clicking through his inbox, below some spam was a message sent just an hour previously. It was from Gou, she had sent him an email to remind him of the parent-teacher conferences he had the following afternoon. Makoto sighed and clicked further down in his inbox. After a moment he snapped his phone shut and lay it next to his cup of coffee along with his glasses. He ran a hand through his hair and snuck another look at Haru, who was still doodling. His thoughts returned to his strange nervousness upon entering the shop. Why was he so nervous? Did he, did he not like Haru? But that didn’t make any sense, because though his heart had pounded and his throat gone dry upon entering the shop, he had been happy to see the baker. And he had wanted to talk to him, but at the same time he was scared to open his mouth. And the night before he had found himself against his will typing ‘The Dolphin Bakery’ into his search engine. He had read close to a dozen reviews, all praising Haru and his baking. A few also mentioned Haru’s looks, talking about how handsome the young baker was. Reading these articles Makoto had felt something cold and unpleasant in his stomach. Why had he felt that? It wasn’t that he… that he disagreed? Or thought Haru undeserving of such praise? He glanced quickly toward where Haru sat, now chewing on the back of his pen and staring absently at the thank you note. Makoto felt heat rise in his face and was sure his ears were now red. No, no he didn’t disagree with the articles at all. He scrunched his eyes shut before giving his head a small shake and refocusing on the remaining apple turnover on his plate. Makoto finished the pastry and was sipping on his coffee when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, the coffee splashing within its cup, to find Haru standing by his table, holding the thank you note. Makoto stared at Haru for a moment before the baker began to speak.  
“What name is this?” Makoto took a moment to realize Haru was pointing to one of the names scrawled on the inside of the thank you card.

“Oh,” Makoto blinked and focused on where Haru was indicating. He squinted for a few seconds before slipping his glasses back onto his nose. The card came into sharper focus in front of him and he recognized the cramped signature. “That’s Rei. For such a tidy kid he really does have cramped writing.”

“Right, thanks.” Haru turned the card around and squinted again at the writing inside. “Which one was Rei?”

“He has red glasses, hangs out with a little blonde boy.”

“Nagisa,” Haru remembered. “I remember him, well both of them.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Sorry, Nagisa was a little… nosy, I guess you would call it.” Haru met Makoto’s eyes again, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“It’s okay, I didn’t mind.” Makoto swallowed and looked into his cooling coffee. Haru shifted his weight a little and Makoto heard the shuffling of paper. “Well um, thanks,” Haru said before turning to walk. Makoto’s eyes snapped up in time to see Haru sit behind the counter and prop his card up next to the cash register. Makoto smiled at the fact that Haru had remembered his students’ names. It made him inordinately happy and he attempted to hide his happiness with another sip of his now room-temperature coffee. He placed his phone in his pocket and took off his glasses before downing the last dregs and brought both his empty cup and plate to the trash can in the corner next to the door. He turned away from and trash can and met Haru’s eyes. Makoto bit his lip and then smiled shyly, raising a hand in farewell. Haru hesitated before smiling back, raising his own hand to mirror Makoto’s.  
“Bye,” Makoto mouthed before ducking his head and pushing out of the little bakery into the light of the setting sun. 

Makoto walked slowly to the train station, watching his shadow ripple over the uneven sidewalk in the orange light. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and felt his brows knit. He felt like he had left something unsaid back in the bakery, but he couldn’t quite think what. The low sun glinted off of the plastic of the train station and Makoto shaded his eyes before checking the train schedule. The next train wasn’t due for twenty minutes, so he found a seat on the bench sunk into it slowly. An abandoned newspaper lay on the ground a few feet over, and Makoto picked it up. He creased the spine before opening it up to a random page. His eyes wandered over the words as he tried to focus. He put his glasses back on and fixated on a headline, but he forgot what it said a second later. Makoto attempted to read the paper for a few minutes more before folding it and placing it beside him and leaning back with a sigh. He lifted his glasses away from his nose slightly to rub his eyes before pushing them back into place. He blinked slowly and pushed his hair back from his eyes. Makoto then leaned forward, rounding his shoulders slightly and suppressing a yawn before finally placing his elbows on his knees and settling his chin on top of his interlocked fingers. He decided that now, away from the bakery, was a perfect time to sort out his confusing reaction to Haru.

He didn’t even really know him, he reasoned with himself again. Not in any meaningful way, anyway. And yet Makoto couldn’t stop smiling when he thought of the serious way Haru asked Makoto to tell him whom a signature was from, or how he propped the card up next to his cash register right where he could see it. And Haru seemed so shy, but his mouth had twisted into a grin upon hearing Makoto’s coffee order. Makoto buried his face in his hands, tangling his hair in his fingertips and huffing out a breath. And Haru’s gaze was just so… steady. And disconcerting. Well not disconcerting but something about it made Makoto nervous. It was almost like… like he was attracted to him. But Makoto hadn’t had this kind of stupid crush on someone in years. He had dated guys before! He was relatively experienced! He made a frustrated sound into his palms before peeking up through the cage his fingers created. The sun was still uncomfortably bright, its proximity to the horizon bathing the train station in orange and yellow. Makoto checked his phone only to see that he still had a good five minutes before the train arrived. Other passengers were now waiting at the station as well and Makoto moved the newspaper on the spot next to him in order to clear the seat. He broodily creased the edges of the newspaper as he argued with himself. The idea that he could have just stumbled into this ridiculous crush was, frankly, embarrassing. Makoto rubbed his eyes again and looked up to see the train pulling into the station. He got up and shuffled aboard, shoving the now folded newspaper into his back pocket as he went. He ended up finding an empty seat and he slid into the one next to the window, glancing outside to see that the station already looked darker in the setting sun. He heard a soft sound and turned to find a woman standing awkwardly next to Makoto’s seat. She cleared her throat again.

“Um, may I sit here?”

“Oh, of course!” Makoto skooted closer to the window and offered her a smile, which she returned. She sank into the seat next to him and immediately opened a small novel and began to read. She was rather petite, and Makoto guessed she was somewhere in her late thirties. She looked, Makoto thought, very kind. She looked up from her book and Makoto realized with a start that he was still studying her. He smiled distractedly and then looked down at his hands, where his fingers were twisting themselves together. He chewed on his lip and again glanced out the window at the buildings and trees whipping past. He rolled his shoulders and scrunched his toes and then settled for just staring out of the window, trying to empty his mind.

“Um, excuse me,” a soft voice came from beside him. Makoto turned quickly to the woman sitting next to him. She had put her book down and was now studying him.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help but notice, but you look a bit agitated. Are you alright?”

“Oh I’m sorry was I disturbing you?”

“No!” The woman reassured Makoto. “No not at all.”

“Oh, that’s good then.” Makoto smiled unsurely before opening his mouth again. “Actually I am a bit agitated, but it’s really nothing important.”

“I oftentimes find,” the woman said slowly, “that things are never quite as unimportant as we like to think. You know there is a saying, well I forget the exact wording, but the jist of it is ‘nothing lifts the heart more than letting go of the troubles you didn’t know you had.’” She smiled widely.

“That’s lovely,” Makoto said after a moment. “But I don’t know if I should dump my troubles on you before we are introduced. My name is Makoto Tachibana,” he extended his hand.

“And mine is Miho Amakata,” she said, shaking Makoto’s hand gently. “Nice to meet you. Now what is troubling you?”

“Well,” Makoto started carefully. “There’s this… person. And I just met them, I really don’t know anything about them but… I don’t know, something about them just makes it impossible for me to stop thinking about them.” Makoto dropped his eyes to his hands, but he could sense Miho’s knowing smile.

“And this… person. You feel strongly towards them?”

“I don’t really know! I mean I barely even… I just met... “ Makoto trailed off and sighed. “I really just can’t seem to figure it out.”

“Do you know what I think you should do, Mr. Tachibana?” Miho smiled and leaned forward conspiratorially.

“What should I do?”

“I think,” she paused. “you should see them again.”

“What?”

“Well, if you don’t know quite how you feel, the only way to find out for sure is to go back. Don’t you think so?”

“Maybe I mean… He might not even want to see me. I mean!” Makoto glanced nervously at Miho, but she was still smiling.

“Mr. Tachibana, you seem to me a very nice young man. I’m sure he won’t mind seeing you again. Now I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me, my stop is next.” She stood up and straightened her skirt. “It was lovely to meet you.”

“You too,” Makoto replied. “Thank you, Ms. Amakata, for your advice. I will try to take it.”

“I hope you do,” and then the train stopped, and Miho Amakata walked off, dog-earring a page in her book as she walked. The train slowly pulled out of the station and Makoto leaned back in his seat. The sun sank lower in the sky as the horizon sped by the train’s windows. When Makoto reached his stop the sky was cool and dark. Velvety blue shadows criss-crossed the sidewalk as he walked slowly towards his apartment. He turned the key in his lock and pushed his way inside the dark stairwell. As Makoto shrugged off his jacket and took of his shoes he thought about what Miho Amakata had said to him. He smile as he headed up the stairs to his small apartment. ‘Maybe,’ Makoto thought to himself. ‘Maybe I will see him again.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fic and I would really love constructive feedback! (Honestly any type of feedback). Um, thanks for reading!!!


	3. A Ten Minute Detour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto goes to the bakery a few more times and they are both v gay. Rin and Sousuke show up!!! Though only in conversation (they'll be there for real later on)

Bakers wake up early. Very, very early. So early that while the oven is warming up and the dough being kneaded the sky is just barely streaked with the first vestiges of light. So early that by the time the first pastries come out of the oven the sky is barely orange with sunrise and the sun glares bright and blinding against the glass display case. Haru Nanase, however, does not like to wake up early. In his days of swimming he would fall asleep in the shower before early morning practices. When he was in school he used to be late because he couldn’t drag himself out of bed, and then out of the bath in order to make himself breakfast. After more than a year of waking up before the sun Haru told himself he was used to it, but his eyelids still dragged shut as he got ready for the day ahead. Today was no different from the rest. Haru dragged himself out of bed and slowly pulled a towel from the hook next to his bed. As he made his way to the bathroom he ran his hand through his hair, further upsetting his bedhead. After a shower which mostly consisted of Haru leaning against tiled wall he slowly brushed his teeth and made his way back to his room. He pulled a blue long sleeve shirt over his head, noticing as he did that his dripping hair was making damp patches on the fabric. He tugged on a pair of pants before toweling his hair more thoroughly and using his fingers to comb out the stray pieces. He threw on a jacket and slipped his feet into his shoes before heading out of his small apartment and into the cool, blue morning. 

The Dolphin Bakery was about a ten minute walk from Haru’s apartment. Haru knew the route so well that he barely even looked at the sidewalk in front of him when he was walking. The think he really missed, Haru thought to himself as he stifled a yawn, was bathing in the morning. A five minute shower could in no way replace a morning soak in the tub. Haru shivered slightly and turned the corner to the street The Dolphin Bakery was on. He fumbled slightly with his keys before unlocking the door and pushing into the cool darkness of the bakery. He flicked on the lights and the coffee machine before walking into the kitchen and turning one of the ovens on. As it heated up he got cookie dough from the refrigerator and pulled a baking sheet from the large cabinet next to the oven. Haru rolled balls of the cookie dough and put them on the tray an inch and a half apart. The large baking sheets held about sixty cookies spaced out in this way, and it took about fifteen minutes to fill the whole thing. Once the tray was full Haru pushed the tray smoothly into the oven before starting on his pastry crust. The pastry crust was used in a lot of the baking goods, so he needed to make a lot of it. Haru measured out five cups of flour and added it to a large glass bowl. Next he cut up five sticks of butter and one and one quarter teaspoons of salt and threw them in as well. As he beat the mixture with a pastry mixer he yawned and took in the kitchen around him. Light slanted through the high windows and made pools on the floor. Flour danced in the early morning sun and everything looked bright and clean. 

Haru stopped mixing and studied the contents of the bowl. The dough looked like coarse lumps, some small as the head of a pin and some the size of a pea. Haru paused here to pull the cookies out of the oven and quickly put a new batch in. He then put the pastry mixer to the side and went to the freezer where he picked up three ice cubes. He grabbed a glass and dropped the ice cubes into it, feeling the cool water slide over his fingers as the ice melted in the warm kitchen. Haru then filled the cup with water and mixed the ice around with a tablespoon. He transferred the pastry dough to the food processor and, once the water was cold enough, drizzled four tablespoons over the it. He pressed the button to pulse the dough one, two, five times before he turned out the entire contents of the food processor onto the floured surface of the wooden countertop. Haru divided the dough into smaller portions before kneading lightly to spread out the fat within the mixture. Then Haru divided the dough into twelve small portions before wrapping each in saran wrap and putting them in the refrigerator. By this time the second batch of cookies were ready and Haru pulled them out of the oven and stuck them on the stovetop in one fluid motion. At this point the time was 5:35 and Haru still had a lot to do before the bakery opened at 7:30. 

Haru pulled the prepped croissant dough out of the refrigerator and rolled it out on his floured countertop. Then he took a large knife and cut long strips before slicing each into triangles. He rolled the croissants and placed them on an empty baking sheet, sliding them into the warm but turned off oven, and then slid a pan of heated water onto the oven rack below. Haru closed the oven and set his timer to let the croissants proof for an hour and a half. Haru then took a bag of apples and puff pastry he had prepared a few days before from the refrigerator and set them on the table, along with a bowl filled with diluted lemon juice and a large paring knife. Haru preheated his second oven to 200 degrees Celsius, then peeled the apples and sliced them thinly, transferring the slices to the bowl of lemon juice as he went. Once all the apples were sliced Haru melted a large pat of butter in a skillet, and then, after draining the lemon juice from the apples, added them to the skillet as well. He added brown sugar and cinnamon, stirring continuously. Then he mixed cornstarch with two tablespoons of water and added it to the apple mixture, stirring until the sauce thickened. He turned off the heat and then began to prepare the puff pastry, which was now around room temperature. He sliced the dough into squares, stretching the edges slightly as he went. When he had laid out around thirty squares of dough he brought the skillet over and carefully spooned a generous amount of apple filling into the center of each square. Once done he pinched the edges of each shut and placed them on two large baking sheets, sliding both into the preheated oven and setting the timer for 25 minutes. He checked the croissants, which were still proofing, and then began getting out the ingredients for frosting. The cupcakes were already made and in the refrigerator, however none of them were frosted, so Haru was faced with making four different types of icing. The lemon curd was relatively easy, just mixing pre-bought lemon curd with some buttercream icing, but that still left peanut butter and cream cheese, not the mention actually making the buttercream that went on three types of cupcakes. Monday morning always brought a lot of work, even if Haru tried to do as much as he could Sunday afternoon. 

Haru brought out his large mixer that he used for icings and then dropped in butter and confectioner’s sugar. He beat them for two minutes before increasing the mixer’s speed and beating them for another three. He then added whipping cream and vanilla extract and beat for two minutes more. He removed the bowl and got a new one before scraping as much icing off of the mixing blades as he could and then replacing them in the machine in order to make cream cheese icing. Haru first beat together cream cheese and butter, then adding the powdered sugar a cup at a time, beating the mixture until smooth. Then Haru beat in the vanilla extract before moving his second type of icing to the side and moving on to the peanut butter. Haru beat together peanut butter and butter and then added confectioners sugar half a cup at a time. When the mixture became hard to mix he added milk a tablespoon at a time, until all the sugar was added. He then beat for another three minutes until the frosting was fluffy and spreadable. Haru then turned back to his buttercream icing and took out a third of the mixture, putting it in another bowl and adding several large spoonfuls of lemon curd. He mixed the lemon curd in delicately, being careful not to lose the fluffy consistency of the icing. The timer for the apple turnovers had dinged while Haru was finishing whipping the lemon curd icing so he took them out of the oven and put them on a far countertop to cool. Once that was done Haru got the cupcakes out of the refrigerator and began icing them. For the lemon curd he piped a large donut of icing around the edge and then a spoonful of lemon curd in the center. For the rest Haru simply piped a fat swirl of icing on the top, sprinkling dark chocolate shavings on the tops of the chocolate peanut butter cupcakes, and putting a large curl of white chocolate on the top of the red velvets. Once he was finished icing the cupcakes the croissants were done proofing. He spritzed the 200 degree oven where the turnovers had been with a bit of water before transferring the croissants over and setting his timer for twenty minutes. He then glanced at the clock to see that he had a little less than 25 minutes until the bakery opened. He lined trays with parchment paper and lined up cookies, cupcakes, and apple turnovers on each. Haru then carried them two at a time to the glass display case and slid them carefully into place. He also put trays of fruit tarts, cream puffs, and little cups of mousse he had made on Sunday in the display case. He checked on the coffee machine at 7:15 and then went back into the kitchen to clean up a little. 

As he wiped the flour off of his counter he found himself wondering who would come in today. Monday mornings were usually pretty busy, a lot of people stopping in for coffee or a pastry because they missed breakfast at home. The timer for the croissants dinged at 7:27 and he pulled the baking sheet out of the oven, turning it off a moment later. He lined up two rows of six croissants on a parchment-covered tray and covered up the remaining pastries with tinfoil. He placed the croissants between the cookies and apple turnovers and went to turn over the open/closed sign just as the clock struck 7:30.

He didn’t have to wait long for his first customer, a very rushed looking woman came in at 7:32 and ordered two coffees and a dozen assorted cookies. A few minutes later a man came in to buy a dozen cupcakes for his daughter’s class, “it’s her birthday,” he explained hurriedly as Haru boxed up six chocolate and six vanilla, closing the box with a sticker that read The Dolphin Bakery. A few more people came in to order coffee and a croissant, and at 7:50 Haru found himself using a small break between customers to run into the back and grab more cream and sugar. He heard the tinkle of the bell at his door and rushed out of the back only the stop dead in his tracks still halfway through the swinging door. The man who was also in the process of walking through the door had also stopped, the wispy ends of his hair glowed in the morning light and his eyes looked sleepy behind his glasses. Haru just stood there for a moment before stepping fully behind the cash register and putting the cream and sugar he had just grabbed below the register and straightening his shirt. Makoto had not recovered so quickly and Haru looked up to see him just shutting the door, before walking slowly towards the register. Haru’s stomach twisted slightly, which confused him enough to let him snap out of his momentary lapse of focus.

“Um, hi,” Makoto started softly. 

“Hi,” Haru replied a little more quietly than he would have liked. He swallowed and tried again. “What can I get you?”

“A coffee and a croissant please, I didn’t have a chance to eat breakfast this morning.”

“Sure, how would you like your coffee?” Haru asked as he pulled a croissant off of the tray and put it in a small paper bag along with two napkins. The bell on the door chimed once again as Makoto opened his mouth to answer. Makoto flushed slightly and lowered his voice a little.

“Three creams and three sugars please,” he all but whispered. Haru smiled a little and made up his coffee before pressing the cup into a cardboard sleeve and passing it across the counter. Haru hadn’t actually needed to ask Makoto’s coffee order, he had remembered it. However that wasn’t something he was about to admit. Makoto slid his payment across the table and sipped his coffee, the hot beverage slightly steaming his glasses. Haru fumbled with the change as he handed it to Makoto, one of the coin rolling over the counter and dropping to the floor. 

“Sorry!” Haru said as he went to step around the counter and retrieve the dropped change.

“Don’t worry about it,” Makoto said, stopping him. “Leave it for someone else to find.” With that Makoto dropped his now slightly reduced change into his pocket, took the white paper bag containing his croissant and left with a smile and a soft “have a nice day.” Haru didn’t have a chance to reply before he was gone with a chime of the bell on the door. Haru was left feeling slightly disoriented and not quite sure why. 

The rest of the morning passed by busy and uneventful. By 3:00 Haru was able to take twenty minutes to go into the kitchen and make a raspberry tart a woman had ordered Saturday and agreed to pick up Monday at 5:30. He took out the pastry dough he had prepared that morning and rolled it out in a thin circle. Next he put raspberries in a saucepan with sugar and water, heating them until they formed a thick syrup. Haru pressed the rolled out pastry dough into a pan and poured the raspberry syrup into it, leaving room at the top. He then took the remaining fresh raspberries and arranged them in swirls on top of the uncooked tart. Haru carefully placed the tart into the hot oven and set his timer to 30 minutes. When he emerged from the kitchen the light outside the bakery had changed slightly and there was a sort of heaviness in the air. Haru fidgeted in his chair behind the register for a few minutes before getting up and propping open the door to the bakery. He settled back behind the register and slumped over with his elbows on the counter. He watched the minutes tick by on the clock on the wall and resigned himself to a slow afternoon. After another twenty minutes the timer dinged and Haru got the tart out of the oven and set it on the counter to cool. A few more customers trickled in before the woman who had ordered the raspberry tart came by to pick it up. Haru told her to wait a minute before going into the back and settling the tart into a white box. He brought it out to the woman and showed her the tart before he closed the box.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes that looks absolutely perfect. It’s for my niece, raspberry is her favorite.”

“Well I hope she enjoys it Ms…?”

“Amakata. And I’m sure she will.” Haru smiled and folded the sides of the box so he could close it. After closing the box with a Dolphin Bakery sticker to keep the lid shut he rummaged through a drawer below the cash register for the order form the woman had filled out a few days before. Haru put the order form on the counter beside the box.

“Thank you very much for your business Ms. Amakata, if you could just please sign this order form I can complete the transaction.” Ms. Amakata smiled warmly before reaching into her purse for a pen.

“Of course,” she said as she signed the form and then returned her pen to her bag and straightening up. “Thank you very much and have a lovely evening.”

“Yes you too,” Haru said as he put the form back into the drawer it came from and looked up to see Ms. Amakata gingerly holding the box containing the tart as she made her way out of the bakery and into the late afternoon sun. Haru settled back behind the register and picked up a notepad and began sketching on it absentmindedly. He quickly put it down when he found he was doodling the outline of Makoto Tachibana’s glasses and instead began cleaning up. He closed the bakery at 6:30 and, after making preparations for the next morning, walked slowly home. He crawled into bed around 10:00 but didn’t fall asleep until much later, his mind was going around and around and it took over an hour for it to quiet down enough to allow him to slip into a slightly restless sleep.  
… 

Tuesday morning Haru pulled himself out of bed very tired and greatly regretting falling asleep so late the night before. He got to the bakery a little later than usual and rushed through preparations for the day ahead. At 7:20 he found himself in a momentary lull without anything in his hands, two minutes left on the timer for the croissants. In his moment of rest he found his thoughts lagging. Haru blinked and focused on the timer stuck magnetically above one of the ovens. The rubber buttons were faded from use, their labels smudged and illegible, only useful to Haru because he had memorized which buttons were which long ago. He felt a coil of anxiety in his stomach as the timer started counting down the final thirty seconds. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, focusing on the glowing shapes behind his eyelids until the timer beeped shrilly, startling him out of his moment of apprehension. Haru removed the croissants from the oven and put them on a tray, sliding them into place in the glass display case and flipping the sign on the door at 7:31. 

At 7:36 two older gentlemen came in arguing about a film, pausing for a moment to order two coffees and a fruit tart before resuming their debate while seated at the counter by the window. At 7:39 about four people came in at once, three of them only wanting coffee and the third taking two coffees and two cupcakes, holding them carefully as they manouvered out of the bakery. A somewhat steady stream of customers were coming into the Dolphin Bakery at this point, and Haru was left with little time to dwell on his earlier disquiet. At 7:48 the bell on the door tinkled but Haru was busy getting coffee and a scone for a woman in an orange blouse and matching shoes. By the time Haru looked up there were two people left in line, a very short old woman, and behind her the lanky figure of Makoto Tachibana. Haru’s previous anxiety returned at full force. He clumsily filled the woman’s order, handing her a bag of assorted cookies with slightly trembling hands before clenching his hands by his sides and facing Makoto.   
… 

Makoto had felt the nervous tightening of his chest when he walked into the bakery, but had been comforted by the line in front of him. However, now that he found himself standing directly in front of Haru his nervousness had become a slightly sick feeling that seemed to be making it a little difficult to speak. He could feel his ears getting red as he tried to piece together some sort of greeting. Haru was looking at him, then down at his hands, then back to Makoto. He broke the silence first.

“Hi, what can I get you?” he asked very quickly and quietly. Makoto found the question broke him out of his nervous state enough to answer.

“Coffee please, three creams and three sugars.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, yeah that’s it.” Makoto looked down after this, studying the slight scratches on the countertop between them. He looked up to see Haru give his coffee and quick stir before putting on a lid and sliding it across the counter. 

“Um,” Haru started. “Did you, um, did you ever get to the Natural History museum?”

“No, I was going to go on my next day off.”

“But you’re a teacher don’t you get weekends off?”

“Sort of, but making lesson plans always keeps me pretty busy and I coach a middle school basketball team that usually has games on Saturday.”

“Oh,” Haru bit his lower lip and Makoto tried to focus anywhere else as he wracked his brain for something to say.

“Do you go often? The Natural History Museum, I mean.” Makoto winced internally as he heard the slight rise in his voice.

“Sometimes,” Haru said quietly. “It’s really nice you should go,” Haru looked almost as if he wanted to say more but instead pushed the coffee closer to Makoto. Makoto reached into his pocket and fished out a 500 yen coin. Haru quickly got his change out of the register and dropped it into his waiting hand. 

“I’ll check it out,” Makoto finally said.

“Hm?”

“The Natural History Museum, it sounds like fun.”

“You don’t have to-”

“No, I want to. Thanks for the coffee.” Makoto smiled before waving a quick goodbye and walking out into the morning light. He walked down the street sipping his coffee slowly. It was very hot and he took the plastic lid off to cool it slightly, though this made some of the hot coffee splash out of the cup and onto his hand. Makoto cursed quietly as he wiped his hand off and then replaced the cap on top of the coffee cup. By this time his drink had cooled a bit and he could comfortably sip while walking towards the preschool. He shifted his messenger bag on his shoulder and spent the ten minute walk to Iwatobi thinking about Haru asking him if he had gone to the natural history museum, and wishing he had been able to say yes. As he downed the last room-temperature sip of coffee he hoped he’d have the nerve to go back the next morning.   
… 

Wednesday morning Makoto woke up ten minutes before his alarm clock went off, and instead of sinking back into his pillow for a few more moments of sleep he dragged himself out of bed and got ready. He was out the door fifteen minutes earlier than usual and walked slowly, shivering slightly in the cool morning air. The dew was just disappearing from the grass and car windows and Makoto found himself doodling a smile in the window of a red minivan as he waited to cross the street. As Makoto approached the street the Dolphin Bakery was on he began to feel the nerves he felt the day before creep back and settle in his gut. He checked his watch as he reached the door of the art supply shop situated next to the bakery, 7:32. He knew the bakery opened at 7:30 but he didn’t want to come in right when it opened in case Haru was running a bit behind, he didn’t want to rush him. Instead Makoto looked over the art store’s window display, comparing the brushes with fine wooden handles to the plastic ones his students used. He peered into the dark shop and saw the outlines of huge canvases and towering displays of what he assumed must be markers and pens. Makoto checked his watch again, it was 7:38 so Makoto figured he could go inside. 

The bell on the door seemed louder than usual as he entered the bakery. The single-room shop was empty save for a slightly sleepy-looking Haru, who straightened up the moment Makoto opened the door. Makoto thought he maybe saw a smile ghost over Haru’s face, but in a moment he was convinced he had imagined it because Haru’s face settle back into his neutral mask. He jammed his hands into his pockets and approached the counter, rehearsing what he was going to say as he went.

“Hi,” Haru said before Makoto could get out his carefully planned opening line. “Coffee? Three creams and three sugars?” Makoto smiled involuntarily at the recitation of his coffee order.

“Yeah, thanks. Oh and I was going to bring in some cookies for the other teachers, do you have any recommendations?” Makoto silently applauded himself for not messing up. Haru hesitated slightly before answering, studying the display case.

“Well,” he started. “I mean a lot of people like the plain sugar ones, especially the ones in different shapes.”

“Which are you favorites?” Makoto asked impulsively.

“Oh, well I think the dark chocolate ones are good. And I like the strawberry, and the pistachio, and the peanut butter with chocolate k-kisses,” Haru’s voice faltered on the last word and his cheeks colored slightly. Makoto swallowed and took a breath before answering, not trusting his voice.

“I’ll take a four each of those, please.” Haru nodded and got out a small square box, filling it quickly with the cookies. He secured the top with a Dolphin Bakery sticker and pushed it across the counter. He glanced up and held Makoto’s eyes for a second, which made Makoto’s heart do little flip flops in his chest.

“Oh!” Haru blushed a little more. “You ordered coffee. Sorry I’ll get that.” He hurriedly grabbed a cup and began to fill it with steaming coffee.

“Oh I forgot,” Makoto said, looking down at the white box of cookies and smoothing down a corner of the sticker with his index finger. Haru pushed the cup of coffee beside the box of cookies, retracting his hand quickly and winding his fingers into his apron string. Makoto paid in silence. As he slid the box of cookies into his messenger bag the bell on the door chimed prettily in the still morning air. Makoto grabbed his coffee and looked up at Haru. He was chewing his lip and studying Makoto. Makoto smiled before saying a quick goodbye and exiting the bakery. He walked to the preschool more quickly than usual, downing the majority of his now lukewarm coffee when he reached his classroom. The first half of the day passed by rather uneventfully and when lunchtime rolled around Makoto had a moment to slip over to the small faculty room and put the box of cookies next to the mostly-empty coffee pot. Gou walked in a moment later, stretching her arms over her head.

“I left the kids to eat with class H, and Nagisa fell down again so he is in the Nurse’s office.”

“Is he alright?”

“Yeah I don’t think he was actually hurt all that bad, but the moment he fell over Rei started crying so Nagisa took his cue from him.”

“Where’s Rei now?”

“In the nurse’s office with Nagisa.”

“Of course he is.” Makoto smiled wearily and emptied the last of the coffee into a small paper cup. Gou noticed the cookies and looked questioningly at Makoto.

“Cookies? From the Dolphin Bakery?”

“Yeah they’re for everyone.”

“That’s so sweet of you,” Gou smiled and took a pistachio cookie. “Oh, I found someone else I want to introduce you to.”

“Gou please don’t try to set me up again.”

“Please! I swear he is the sweetest guy!”

“No way, the only gay guys you know you know through your brother and I am not in the mood for another one of his exes.”

“That was one time!” 

“Rin destroyed that guy! No thank you.” Makoto finished his small cup of coffee and grabbed a peanut butter cookie with a chocolate kiss on top.

“He’s not even dating this guy! He’s his trainer, come one he’s really cute.”

“Gou if this guy is gay then there is no way he is not involved with your brother.”

“Why not? You’ve never tried to date my brother!” Makoto laughed and took a bite of his cookie.

“Of course not. I couldn’t date my co-workers family that would unprofessional. Also I’m not into guys who wear tank tops as though they are real shirts.” Gou laughed at this.

“I’m telling him you said that”

“Go ahead, also tell me when he comes clean about sleeping with his personal trainer.”

“Come on Makoto just take this guy’s number. His name is Sousuke Yamazaki, he’s trained as a physical therapist and he is actually pretty famous. Just take his number.”

“Sorry, maybe next time.” Makoto finished his peanut butter cookie and grabbed a strawberry one before walking out of the faculty room and back towards his classroom. As he walked down the brightly lit hall his thoughts turned away from Gou’s determination to set him up and instead he thought about how Haru’s voice shook slightly when he said the word “kisses,” and how he had maybe smiled when Makoto entered the shop. Makoto finished his cookie as he pushed open the door to his classroom, brushing crumbs off of his fingertips before getting out art supplies and picture books in preparation for the rest of the day.  
…

Thursday morning was gray and drizzling, and Haru was forced to turn up the collar of his jacket against the raindrops forced sideways by the wind. Once he reached the Dolphin Bakery he gratefully stepped into the cool, dry interior. The oven quickly warmed up the kitchen and the sound of raindrops on the bakery windows and roof made the inside seem brighter and cozier in comparison. Haru bustled around the kitchen, preparing the days pastries. The rain slowed to a slight drizzle around 6:15 and stopped completely just before 7:00. Haru was done all the preparations for the day a little early and flipped the sign on the door about ten minutes before he usually did. He sat behind the counter and doodled on his yellow legal pad as he waited for the first customers. The sun was shining weakly through the slowly parting rain clouds and faint yellow light was beginning to pool on the floor of the bakery. Haru sketched the pastries in the glass display case as he wondered if he should get tea for the bakery as well. He didn’t really want the shop to turn into a cafe, but on the other hand, tea paired with pastries much better than coffee did. Haru absentmindedly doodled a teapot as he wondered which types of tea he would get if he started serving it.   
He was adding little squiggles of steam to the teapot when the bell on the door chimed and someone stepped into the shop. Haru put his pad to the side and stood up, shaking his head slightly to clear his mind. The first customer of the day was a young woman who very quietly ordered a coffee and a croissant. After she left a pretty steady stream of customers came through the shop until around 7:50, when there was a slight lull and the shop was empty once again. Haru sat back on his stool and chewed his lip slightly, wondering despite himself if Makoto would come to the shop again today. The thought made him slightly nervous, but not in a bad way, which confused him, but again not completely in a bad way. He did have to wonder for very long though because at 7:53 the bell on the door went off as Makoto entered the shop. Haru found himself much more nervous than he had previously anticipated. His hands shook slightly and he clenched them tightly under the counter in an attempt to still them. 

“Hi,” Haru said quickly as Makoto reached the counter.

“Hi,” Makoto smiled widely and Haru wished he was less nervous.

“What can I get you?” Haru felt like he was tripping over his own words.

“Just a coffee please.”

“Sure thing.” Haru began making his coffee without waiting for Makoto to tell him his order. “So,” Haru started. “Are you um… local? I mean just because you come here like… sorry that sounded weird.” Haru could hear his voice getting softer and his face heating up as he spoke and he regretted opening his mouth. He glanced up at Makoto in time to see him smile, which made him regret it a little less.

“Yeah, I’m pretty close. Like a ten minute walk.”

“You walk to work?”

“Yeah, I used to bike but one day my chain broke so I had to walk and I really liked it, so now I walk every day,” Makoto stopped talking for a moment before shaking his head slightly. “Sorry, that’s such a boring story…”

“No!” Haru said quickly. “No I think it’s nice. I walk to work too, and I always like it.”

“Really?” Makoto smiled and looked down. Haru suddenly remembered Makoto’s coffee and slid it across the counter.

“Yeah, so if you walk to work how long is your walk to school?”

“Like fifteen minutes away from my apartment.”

“And from here?” Makoto hesitated and his ears turned slightly red.

“It’s about the same,” he practically whispered. Haru looked down and tried not to smile too widely. “I, um,” Makoto’s voice shook slightly. “I really like supporting local businesses?” It sounded more like a question than an explanation. Haru looked up to see Makoto looking silly with embarrassment. Haru found himself smiling, looking down for a moment before meeting Makoto’s eyes again. He looked slightly less embarrassed but seemed to not be able to say anything. Haru looked down to the counter where Makoto’s hand was wrapped very loosely around his coffee cup. Haru hesitated a moment before reaching out his hand and tapping the lid of the coffee cup.

“My treat,” he said into the silence of the bakery. Makoto looked up and his hand jerked slightly, brushing against Haru’s. Haru felt his stomach drop slightly and for some reason seemed unable to move his hand from where it was just barely brushing Makoto’s. In his defense, he thought, Makoto didn’t move his hand either.

“Oh, no I couldn’t…” Makoto started.

“I insist,” Haru smiled and retracted his hand with a twinge of regret he couldn’t quite explain. 

“Thank you,” Makoto said softly.

“No thank you,” Haru could feel his mouth twist into a smile. “The Dolphin Bakery appreciates your patronage.” Makoto laughed and ran a hand through his hair.

“I should get to school.” He smiled at Haru again before adjusting his messenger bag on his shoulder and grabbing his coffee. “See you.” 

“Yeah,” Haru replied slightly breathlessly. “See you.” Makoto walked out of the door into the 8:00 am light, waving slightly before his disappeared from Haru’s view. Haru found himself smiling recklessly in the empty bakery. Makoto walked ten minutes out of his way to come to the bakery every morning. And Haru had a big, stupid crush on him. He was still smiling when the next customer walked in at 8:06, and continued smiling all day long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like it! I hope my writing style isn't inconsistant... Anyway please feel free to leave comments and feedback and whatever you want!!!


	4. Natural History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto visits the natural history museum and learns some history about Haru.

It was Sunday. The air was lazy with the end of the weekend and the sun was brighter than it was warm. The day felt expectantly empty and heavy with the weight of the week it bore before it. Makoto liked Sundays, though they often made him feel a bit fidgety. He liked them because they were his only day off, and while he loved his work he always looked forward to sleeping in. He pulled himself out of bed at 10:14 am Sunday morning and made his way into his small kitchen, rubbing sleep out of his eyes before he pulled cold leftovers out of his fridge for breakfast. He heat up his food before dumping it all into one bowl, eating slowly while he went over his lesson plan for the next week. He made a few notes in the margins of the page before tucking the plan away and dumping his now-empty bowl into the sink.

 

Makoto walked back to his bedroom to get a towel before stepping into a warm shower, letting the water run over him for a minute or two before slowly starting to wash his hair. He turned of the water and stepped out of the shower just as the clock struck 11:00 am. Makoto dressed slowly, looking ruefully at his mounting pile of laundry as he pulled on a flannel shirt he had probably owned since college. He ran a hand through his still-damp hair and put on his glasses. He pushed his drawers closed with one socked foot while he rolled up his sleeves and scanned the rooms for his shoes. He located one by his bed and one half-under his dresser. He pulled them on without undoing the laces and, after a glance at his slightly untidy room and unmade bed, closed the door and made his way back into his kitchen. Makoto stopped by the counter, halfway between the door and the refrigerator, thinking about what to do.

 

On Friday he had stopped by the bakery for a coffee, but there had been a line forming behind him so he hadn’t had a chance to talk to Haru except for a quick hello. Saturday he had woken up a little late and had needed to rush in order to make the basketball practice that he coached on time. Half an hour into practice he was correcting dribbling form and could feel himself growing more tired and sluggish. For the first time he regretted his new habit of drinking coffee first thing every morning, he was becoming slightly caffeine-dependent. Practice Saturday ended by noon and Makoto made his way home in time to eat some lunch before Gou called with last minute changes to next week’s meetings, which took another hour and a half on the phone with her rearranging his lesson plan. By two in the afternoon Makoto was tired and decided on a quiet afternoon in reviewing the books they were reading in class that week and eating chocolate. Makoto had fallen asleep later than usual, having gotten sucked into a marathon of a movie series that was showing on tv and then staying up to watch to the end.

 

This brought Makoto to 11:02 am, wondering if he should go down to the Dolphin Bakery or if Haru was tired of him dropping by to buy coffee from a bakery and then waste his time awkwardly trying to get to know him better. Makoto was usually a very positive person but Haru had a way of making him feel very insecure, though he was always very kind. ‘He’s like that to everyone’ Makoto found said to himself every time he left the bakery. ‘He’s just being polite, you should just buy your coffee and leave him alone. Better yet buy a cake and leave him alone, then you might actually be helping his business.’ Makoto reflected for a moment on the possibilities of buying a cake, but after just a few seconds felt even more pathetic than before and discarded the idea. 

 

After a deep breath he grabbed his keys, his wallet, and pushed his way out of the small apartment, resolutely starting the ten minute walk towards the bakery. On the walk there he thought about how he didn’t have the resolve to stay away and leave Haru in peace. The thought felt jagged, but not enough so to make him turn around.

 

He reached the bakery in a thoroughly miserable mood, which was in no way alleviated by the dark window and the ‘closed’ sign hanging on the door. ‘Right,’ he reminded himself. ‘Closed on Sundays.’ Makoto felt incredibly stupid for a few minutes before digging out his wallet and shuffling through a few receipts until he found a folded piece of lined yellow paper. He extricated it and smoothed out the creases carefully, squinting at the slightly smeared writing and small scribbled illustrations. 

 

Haru’s instructions to the natural history museum lacked any proper map, but a note at the top said ‘walking time: 20 mins. By car: 5 mins,’ so Makoto set off towards the museum. He was glad to be going to the museum, though he had wanted to ask Haru to join him. Not that he thought he would have the nerve, but as long as he hadn’t gone yet he could still imagine Haru showing him his favorite exhibits and maybe letting Makoto treat him to an ice cream afterwards. Well he could still talk with Haru about the museum, and maybe they could still go again some other time. A small voice in Makoto’s head whispered that even if he did have the guts to ask, which he didn’t, Haru probably wouldn’t want to go. Makoto ignored this voice and focused on following the directions printed on the yellow lined paper. At each corner he studied the landmarks and little doodles of trees in order to determine where to turn. There was only one street name on the map, and it was for the first turn after the bakery. Even without street names, the directions were surprisingly clear and Makoto reached the Natural History Museum without any problems.

 

He bought a ticket and began making his way through the exhibits. First he saw the mammals, weaving between the herbivores and pausing before a large display housing a ferocious looking tiger. Next he saw the birds, which were hung from the ceiling or posed on perches around the room. Their glass eyes were strangely piercing and Makoto found himself rather relieved to exit that particular exhibit. He ended up in an open area, the skeleton of a large sea creature suspended above him and several small food vendors along two of the walls. The tail of the suspended sea creature pointed towards the bird exhibit which he had just left, while the head seemed to be leading into a hallway with blue painted walls and smaller creatures displayed along them. He ventured down the blue halls, which lead to the aquatic animals exhibit, stopping to study small fish skeletons as he went.

 

The hall opened up into a larger room which housed prehistoric fish of every size, though quite a few were larger than a car and one seemed the length of a school bus. Makoto walked around the perimeter of the room, stopping to look at several dozen fish skeletons only as big as his pinky finger, arranged to look like they were swimming behind a thick pane of glass. He paused again to study a large illustration of a jellyfish, which was draw next to a human to show it’s size. The jellyfish was about three times as long as the person pictured next to it. Makoto swallowed slightly and moved quickly to the next exhibit.

 

At a few places around the room large doorways lead to smaller rooms that held exhibits on more specific animals. One room held an exhibit on ancient shellfish, one on stingrays, and the last on sharks. Makoto headed into the one on sharks, reading a few of the posters on the walls as he went. One poster detailed the physics behind what made sharks such powerful and effective hunters, another on several misconceptions people have about them. A large poster next to the entrance of the shark exhibit featured a passionate article about how endangered sharks were and what one could do to help save them. 

 

Beyond the entrance to the exhibit a narrow hallway curved towards a small room. Makoto encountered only one person in the hallway, and when he entered the main room only saw a few. His eyes swept over the huge jaws held together by wires which adorned the first section of the wall to his right. Beside them was a table with a side-by-side comparison of the different tooth sizes of different species. Each tooth was accompanied by a small picture of the species it belonged to as well as an explanation of that species diet and why that particular tooth worked best. On the back wall, directly in the center, was a life-sized model of a shark, twisting in mid-air. The model looked fiercely powerful, yet at the same time held such grace. 

 

Makoto found himself inching towards it, wanting a closer look. As he stepped around a table to get closer he noticed a figure he hadn’t seen before sitting in front of the shark model, sketching on a pad of paper. The figure’s head was bent forward, his legs crossed in front of him as a resting place for the drawing pad. Makoto found himself moving forward and his mouth moving before he had fully recognized the person sitting in front of him.

 

“Haru?” he breathed, more a question than a word. Haru looked up, surprised. He looked around and, upon seeing Makoto, scrambled to his feet, closing his sketchpad as he went. Makoto started stumbling over his words. 

 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to surprise you, or to make you get up, I just didn’t expect…” Makoto trailed off. Haru was staring at him very intently, and didn’t break his stare as he took a step closer. Finally he spoke.

 

“You came?, I mean…” he looked down. “I just mean… you came to the museum. Not that… not that I… I was just surprised.” He looked up at Makoto.

 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

 

“I just…” Haru glanced down at his feet and then back up. “I dunno, people think museums are boring. I thought you were just being nice when you said you would come.” Makoto felt a flash of sadness.

 

“I love museums,” he said gently.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Me too.” Haru smiled and Makoto was lost, grinning like an idiot. After a moment he spoke again.

 

“Were you drawing the shark?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Haru fidgeted slightly and tucked the sketchpad more securely under his arm.  Makoto bit his lip and against his better judgement asked:

 

“Can I see?” Haru blushed slightly. “If you’re not comfortable that’s totally fine…”

 

“Sure,” Haru said. “You can see.” He flipped his sketchbook to the right page and shyly passed it over. Makoto took it and studied the drawings within. One was of the entire shark, twisting magnificently. On the sketchpad it seemed to be truly leaping from the water, powerful and in motion. Next to this drawing was one of just the head, special attention was paid to the dull, predatory eyes and the sharp teeth. Each drawing was beautifully rendered, though the one of the head was not quite finished. 

 

Makoto realized he had been staring, open-mouthed, for almost a minute so he closed his mouth and quickly looked up. Haru looked down, and then back to Makoto holding his sketchbook, and then down again

.

“They’re beautiful,” Makoto said, handing back the pad of paper. Haru seemed a bit taken aback, then smiled slightly as he took back the sketchbook and closed it.

 

“You really think so?”

 

“Yes, the pictures look like… like they’re in motion.” Haru smiled more widely at this.

 

“Thank you.” Makoto nodded and then his eyes flickered back to the model of the shark, comparing it in his mind to Haru’s drawing. The drawing somehow managed to convey more life than the model, even though it was only two dimensional. He looked back at Haru.

 

“I didn’t mean to disturb your drawing, I just wanted to say hi. I guess I’ll… leave you to it then,” Makoto ended awkwardly.

 

“No,” Haru said quickly. “I mean, no, you weren’t disturbing me. You could,” he toed the floor slightly and glanced away. “You could stay, I mean, if you wanted. I wouldn’t… I mean,” he glanced and Makoto’s expectant face and then down again. “It would be fine,” he practically whispered. Makoto smiled.

 

“Yeah, thanks, that would be nice.”

 

“Do you mind sitting on the floor,” Haru gestured to where he had been seated before.

 

“Uh, not at all!” Haru nodded and then sat back down, leaving a space beside him. 

 

Makoto lowered himself to the ground before leaning back against the same table as Haru. He had already flipped open his sketchbook and began drawing again, this time carefully shading in the head of the shark. Makoto watched him work, noting how carefully and lightly he used the pencil, and how he switched the direction of his lines every so often. Makoto was so engrossed by how Haru was drawing that it took him a second the notice that Haru’s hand had stilled and he was now studying Makoto. He met Haru’s eyes and immediately felt his ears get hot. 

“I’m sorry!” Makoto blurted. “I didn’t mean to watch you work I just thought it was so interesting.” Haru smiled.

“It’s fine.” Haru took his pencil and tapped a part of his drawing. “See how with this kind of shading the lines are crossed over each other?” Makoto looked where Haru indicated and then nodded. “That’s called cross-hatching. And then see how this part is blended?” He pointed to another part and Makoto nodded once again. “I used this, because the oils on your fingers are bad for the paper.” Haru produced a small white object from his pocket, which upon closer inspection was a piece of paper tightly coiled into a point, much like that of a pencil. Haru’s hand disappeared into his pocket again, reemerging with a strange gray object, which he squished between his fingers before handing it over to Makoto. “This is a kneaded eraser, I use it to lighten shadows and pull out highlights.” Makoto turned the eraser over in his hand. It was a little warm, with Haru’s thumbprint indenting one side. He nodded for a third time and handed the eraser back.

 

“Have you always liked to draw?” he asked.

 

“Yeah,” Haru said. “For as long as I can remember.”

 

“There’s an art supply store next to your bakery… do you go in there often?” 

 

“Yes, I buy most of my stuff there. I go in more than I should, but I like being surrounded by art supplies, the same way I like being surrounded by baking supplies. It feels like… it feels like potential.” Haru lapsed into silence for a moment, then shook his head. “That sounded dumb.”

 

“No,” Makoto said. “No, I think you’re right. When you are surrounded by the things used to create something you are passionate about, you can’t help but be inspired.”

 

“Is there anything that makes you feel that way?” Haru asked eagerly. Makoto laughed self-consciously.

 

“Does it sound so boring to say I feel that way about new school supplies? Sometimes my classroom will get a big box of colored pencils and construction paper and glue sticks and notebooks and I always get really excited imagining all the projects we can do and lessons I can plan…” Haru laughed and Makoto looked down. “It’s pretty lame.”

 

“No I think it’s good to be passionate about what you do. I mean that’s why I quit swimming, I stopped being passionate about it.”

 

“You swam? Like, professionally?” Makoto asked. Haru stopped smiling at this and looked a bit like he regretted saying anything,

 

“Yeah, I mean, at one point I did.”

 

“That’s amazing, did you… did you ever go to the Olympics?”

 

“Yeah, yeah I went twice.”

 

“Wow.” Makoto sat up straighter. “And then you quit and became a baker?”

 

“Yeah, basically. How about you? How did you become a teacher?” Haru asked. 

 

“Um,” Makoto hesitated. “I guess I always sort of knew I wanted to work with kids. That’s what I went to school for and I guess it’s always been my goal.”

 

“Have you ever wanted to be anything else?” Haru asked. Makoto studied him before answering, he had not missed how quickly Haru had flipped the conversation to be about him.

 

“When I was a little kid I wanted to be a firefighter.” Makoto said. Haru smiled.

 

“When I was a little kid I wanted to be a mermaid.” 

 

“Really?” Makoto laughed.

 

“Yeah, I always thought they had it so much easier.” Haru shaded another tooth before slightly correcting one of his lines. He rubbed at the drawing with his eraser. “Your degree is in education, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Makoto said.

 

“Mine is in fine arts.”

 

“It is?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So how did you end up baking?”

 

“I guess I’ve always liked to cook,” Haru said. “And I lived on my own for my last two years of high school as well as most of my training. When I was living with other members of the swimming team I would cook for us all some nights. I never took real lessons or anything, it just sort of happened. And when I… when I quit I started baking,” Haru paused, scratching the side of his head with the eraser of his pencil before putting it behind an ear. “After that I worked in a restaurant for a while, but it wasn’t very fun so I looked into buying a bakery. I mostly got very, very lucky with it though. A lot of small businesses like mine fail within the first year.”

 

“Why wasn’t the restaurant fun?”

 

“It was too competitive,” he looked sideways at Makoto, who was watching him intensely. Makoto blushed and looked at the floor. “Sorry, I’ve been talking a lot,” Haru said.

 

“No, it’s fine,” Makoto assured him. “It’s interesting, you’re interesting.” His ears turned red. “I don’t mind.” Haru smiled and shut his sketchpad. He pushed himself up so he was standing, sketchbook tucked under one arm.

 

“I was going to walk back, do you,” Haru chewed his lower lip. “Do you want to walk with me?”

 

“Yeah,” Makoto scrambled to his feet. “Yeah, sounds great.” Haru flushed and looked down.

 

“Okay lets go,” he said, moving towards the door. Makoto walked next to him, matching Haru’s pace. He studied him out of the corner of his eye, noting how serious Haru looked. They made their way out of the museum, passing the same exhibits Makoto had as he entered. 

 

They exited the museum into the afternoon sun, which had become bright and warm, though the breeze was still crisp. They walked slowly, Haru looking at the sky and Makoto looking at Haru. Haru’s hands were in his pockets and Makoto briefly wondered if they were calloused from baking, or if they were soft for the same reason. He imagined Haru had a callous on the side of his middle finger from drawing, and maybe a few scars from cooking and baking. He wondered what it would be like to hold his hand, then worried that Haru might somehow read his mind and began studying the ground in front of him instead. He looped his thumbs into his front pockets and focused on matching his pace with Haru’s.

 

They walked in silence, Makoto’s worn shoes scuffing at the sidewalk and Haru kicking small pebbles in front of him as he encountered them. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but Makoto was very aware that as they drew closer to the bakery there was just that much less time he had with Haru. He still had so many questions. He wanted to know about art school and about his first job in a restaurant. He wanted to know what it was like swimming in the olympics and why Haru had changed the topic so quickly when Makoto had begun to ask him about quitting. 

 

Instead of asking any of these questions Makoto tried to slow his pace slightly, stretching out the few blocks before they reached the bakery. Makoto stole glances at Haru as often as he dared. A few times Haru caught him and Makoto looked away as fast as possible, feeling the tops of his ears turn red as he fixed his eyes directly ahead. 

 

Two blocks away from their destination he still hadn’t said anything. Makoto straightened his shirt slightly and while doing so noticed a frayed patch on the left cuff. Upon closer inspection the frayed bit was the beginning of a tear around five centimeters in length.

 

“It’s torn,” Makoto muttered to himself, pulling at the threads around the hole.

 

“Hm?” Haru looked up.

 

“Oh sorry,” Makoto said. “I just noticed, my sleeve is torn. I think it’s time to retire this shirt.” He rolled his sleeve back up and put his hands back in his pockets. Haru turned his head to study Makoto, giving his full attention to the shirt in question.

 

“You shouldn’t throw it out,” he said.

 

“What?”

 

“I said you shouldn’t throw it out,” he repeated. Makoto glanced at Haru. He was looking straight ahead and walking with his shoulders curved forward slightly. He met Makoto’s eyes and flushed slightly.

 

“Why not?” Makoto asked.

 

“Because,” Haru chewed his lip. “I like it.”

 

“You like it?”

 

“Yeah,” Haru said. Makoto laughed, Haru flushed harder.

 

“Why?” he asked. “It’s falling apart, I think I had this shirt in college.” 

 

“I just like it.” Haru said. He glanced once more at Makoto and then back at his feet. Makoto was still smiling. They turned the corner.

 

“Okay,” Makoto said.

 

“What?” Haru said.

 

“Okay I’ll keep it.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah.” Makoto met Haru’s eye for a moment and smiled. Haru smiled back and then looked down again. Their footsteps slowed and they both stopped in front of the bakery. Haru fished in his pocket for the key while Makoto stood awkwardly, trying to think of a way to ask Haru if he wanted to do something like this again. He was just opening his mouth to ask when Haru spoke first.

 

“Thank you,” he said.

 

“Hm? For what?”

 

“For going to the museum, and,” Haru grinned, “for keeping the shirt.”

 

“Oh,” it was Makoto’s turn to blush. “Sure. I um, I had fun, at the museum.” He toed the sidewalk slightly. “So thanks… for that.” Makoto wished he had found a more articulate way to thank him. Haru smiled nonetheless, reaching behind himself to unlock to door. Makoto didn’t want to leave, and he found himself talking to fill the space created as Haru stepped backwards into the bakery.

 

“This shirt… well, Gou, my teaching assistant, she says it makes me look like a lumberjack.”

 

“Well,” Haru studied Makoto and nodded slightly. “I mean, I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing.” He smiled and leaned against the doorframe slightly, one hand still on the door handle behind him and the other holding his drawing pad..

 

“Well, um,” Makoto said. “I had a great time, um.” He was babbling. “I should…” Haru nodded quickly and backed further into the darkened bakery.

 

“Right, yeah. See you,” Haru said.

 

“See you,” Makoto said. Haru opened his mouth, then shut it and stepped fully into the bakery, letting the door shut behind him. He turned and, looking through the glass, raised his hand in farewell. Makoto copied the gesture before turning and slowly walking home. He passed the train station and wondered briefly if he should take the train home. It was only two stops, about a five minute ride, but Makoto liked the steady hum of the train, he liked watching other people live and breathe and commute around him. After a moment's deliberation he decided to keep walking, the next train wasn’t due for another fifteen minutes, and his walk home was only about ten. Makoto squinted against the afternoon light and made his way down the road. It was only around two pm but the air was already the heavy over-bright that comes only when the sun swings past it’s twelve o'clock position.

 

Makoto’s steps lagged and he shoved his hands further into his pockets. He crossed the street and thought about the exact moment Haru had leaned back against the doorframe and smiled, how in that exact moment all Makoto had wanted to do was kiss him. Just lean him back against the doorframe and taste his smile. Wanted to see if he would close his eyes or stare back. He wondered what his eyes looked like up close.

 

Makoto had thought about kissing Haru before, though usually he tried to stop. He felt it wasn’t quite fair to Haru. But this had been different. More forceful. Makoto wasn’t quite sure he liked the lack of control he had around Haru, though he didn’t quite dislike it either. 

 

Makoto reached his front door and fumbled for his keys. He opened the door and stepped into his warm kitchen. Makoto left the lights off and sunk into a kitchen chair. He still had the rest of the afternoon before him, yet all he wanted to do was mope around his apartment and think about Haru drawing sharks in the natural history museum. Idly he wondered what Haru would look like in a bathing suit, before rubbing his eyes hard and firmly setting his mind down a safer path. 

 

Makoto stood and opened his refrigerator, only to find it was mostly empty. He sighed and shut it again, picking his keys back up and walking out of the door for the second time that day. Makoto set off for the grocery store, hoping that shopping would distract him from the confusing and all-consuming thoughts muddling his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter doesn't have much happening - I promise the next one has more action! I hope you guys enjoy this and as always I love comments/constructive criticism and just talking with people! My tumblr is lessthanthesumofmyparts if you want to talk to me there!


	5. Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru wallows and Makoto is perfect as always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is so late! I really have no excuse. I'm sorry.

Haru spent Sunday afternoon filling orders. He baked one hundred vanilla cupcakes for a rehearsal dinner fifty at a time. He tried to devote his mind completely to the task in front of him, and not think of how stupid he had just looked in front of Makoto.

 

_ ‘Don’t throw it away,’  _ Haru had said about the shirt ‘ _ I like it _ .’ Of all the stupid things to say! And then… then Makoto had backed away. He had backed away and stammered out some excuse and then he had just  _ left.  _

 

_ ‘Of course he left,’ _ Haru admonished.  _ ‘It’s not as if he wanted to spend the afternoon watching you make cupcakes, even if you weren’t so awkward beforehand.’  _ Haru closed his eyes and groaned in frustration. He finished garnishing the cupcakes and put them in two flat boxes before finding them a spot in the refrigerator. Then he began to clean up. The oven had several burnt sugar marks on it, and the counter was smeared with lavender frosting. As Haru wiped down both surfaces he could feel his stomach begin to curl with the memory of how much he had talked inside the museum. Makoto had simply gone to a museum and Haru had acted as if he had come specifically to see him. Haru threw the dirty rag into the sink and leaned against the now clean counter, taking a few shaking breaths. 

 

He didn’t think he had ever said so much to one person, and with so little provocation. He was generally pretty shy, and didn’t often speak much about himself if he could help it. But Makoto had barely asked and Haru had revealed his entire life story. Had told a man who had never wavered in who he was that he, Haruka Nanase, had spent the majority of his life having no idea what he wanted. He must have seemed like such a joke to someone like Makoto. Haru made another frustrated noise, this one closer to a yell. He took in deep jagged breaths through his nose and sagged against the counter. After a moment he straightened up and began gathering ingredients for the chocolate cake he was making for a birthday. 

 

The cake was to be chocolate sponge with a buttercream center and a hard chocolate coating, the top adorned with chocolate garnishes and the recipient’s name. Haru got to work on the batter, mechanically sifting and stirring and beating. 

 

The cake was in the oven before Haru had truly taken stock of what he was doing, and before he started on the chocolate coating he took a moment to shake himself out of his thoughts and focus on the task before him. Haru often found baking was the best thing to help clear his mind and calm down, so he threw himself completely into the task at hand. He mixed up the chocolate coating and poured it into a saucepan, letting the ingredients melt together. Haru used the back of his hand to push his hair out of his eyes before beginning to prepare a fresh batch of buttercream icing. He was as careful as possible when combining the ingredients, beating the frosting together with as much precision as he could manage. Despite his best efforts the frosting was not as fluffy as Haru would have liked, though he dared not mix much more or it could become too stiff. Haru gave the mixture a few more half-hearted stirs and resigned himself to imperfection. The cake still had five more minutes left in the oven so Haru went to check on the chocolate coating. Bubbles were slowly rising to the surface of the thick liquid and popping with a small sound, leaving flecks of chocolate against the sides of the saucepan. Haru turned the heat off and gave the chocolate coating a few quick stirs. Then he watched the timer count down from four minutes and felt thoroughly miserable about Makoto.

3:44

3:43

3:42

The real problem, Haru thought, was just how stupidly hot Makoto was. And _ nice.  _ How was that fair to anyone? Haru stewed and focused on the timer’s changing numbers until the blinking characters blurred before his eyes.

 

3:02

 

3:01

 

3:00

 

2:59

 

Haru tapped his fingers against the counter next to him. His stomach twisted at the memory of how gently Makoto had taken his sketchbook. How soft his face had looked. Haru remembered how long Makoto had held the sketchbook before he looked up. He was so complimentary. And then he had stared at Haru while he drew. But not the kind of staring that made Haru uncomfortable, it had been nice staring. Interested staring. ‘ _ But _ ,’ Haru reminded himself, ‘ _ he was probably just being polite _ .’

 

0:39

 

0:38

 

He wondered despite himself if Makoto would be there the following morning. If he would get there when there was a line or when the bakery was empty. Haru liked when there were a few minutes where they could talk in the morning, but it also made him incredibly nervous. He wondered what made Makoto nervous.

 

The timer beeped and Haru took the cake out of the oven. While it cooled he called the couple who had ordered the cupcakes and told the woman who picked up that they were ready. Haru popped the cake out of the pans and onto the cooling racks, noting with pride the perfect dome on each layer. While the cakes finished cooling Haru poured some of the chocolate coating onto wax paper and stuck it in the refrigerator to harden, this chocolate would be used for the garnishes. The cake was cool so Haru set one layer on a large piece of parchment paper, he sliced the top off to make it flat before icing the top of it with the buttercream frosting. He settled the second layer atop the first and began coating the whole thing in chocolate. His mind wandered as he iced the cake, and he again thought of Makoto’s morning visits to the bakery.

 

Haru finished icing the cake and moved onto making the garnishes out of the hardened chocolate coating, wondering as he did so if it was presumptuous to make up Makoto’s coffee order as he walked through the door. He shaved the chocolate into long curls and wallowed in his all-consuming crush. 

 

By the time Haru finished decorating the cake he was sweaty, tired, and just wanted to go home. He hurried through preparations for the next week and left the bakery just as the sky was beginning to darken. The dusky air was cool as Haru walked. He got home a few minutes after the sun had dipped below the horizon. Haru ate a hurried dinner and fell into bed around 9 o'clock, falling asleep to the sound of cars, the smell of vanilla still clinging to his hair.

 

* * *

On monday morning Haru dragged himself out of bed, going through his morning routine while still half-asleep. The morning mist felt wooly and oppressive, and did little to wake him up. He was on autopilot at the bakery and by the time 7:30 rolled around Haru didn’t feel much more awake than he had when he had first gotten out of bed. He sold croissants and coffee in a sort of stupor until 7:50 when he shook himself awake and promised to be more alert for the next customers. But five minutes and two customers later he found himself slumping forward on the counter and doodling absentmindedly on the inside of his forearm. 

 

He was adding thorns to a little sketch of rose that curled around the bone on his wrist when the bell on the door tinkled slightly. Haru’s head shot up and he found Makoto standing with his hand on the door, only halfway into the shop, talking on his cell phone. He shot Haru a quick grin before he went back to his conversation. Haru fidgeted slightly behind the counter, finding both looking at his hands and looking at Makoto intolerable. After another two seconds he turned to the coffee machine and let his hands move in the familiar pattern. Three creams and three sugars. He put the insulated paper cup on the counter before he was fully aware of what he was doing. However, looking at the cup of coffee he had just prepared made heat creep up his neck. He froze, his hands still around the hot cup of coffee. The door swung shut and Haru wondered if Makoto had noticed yet, if he could somehow hide the cup of coffee. 

 

“Good morning!” Makoto said from directly in front of Haru. He raised his eyes slowly to meet Makoto’s, the edges of which were crinkled in a smile. Haru attempted to smile back but mostly just attempted in looking slightly pained. Makoto’s smile faded a bit and he glanced down, saw the coffee cup, and then looked quickly back at Haru. Haru opened his mouth to offer some sort of explanation but couldn’t find anything. 

“Uh,” Makoto said. Haru could see the question forming in his eyes.

“Sorry it was presumptuous to make your coffee before you ordered it. You could have ordered something else, or wanted it a different way, or… something,” Haru trailed off in confusion as Makoto broke into the widest smile Haru had seen on his face yet

 

“It’s fine!” Makoto said. “Thank you, I was going to order a coffee so it’s…” he smiled blindingly again. “It’s fine. It’s great. Thank you.” Haru looked down and pushed the coffee towards Makoto.

 

“Okay, good,” Haru said. He heard the clink of coins and looked up to see Makoto putting coins on the counter. Without thinking he reached out to stop him.

 

“No it’s fine,” Haru said and then stopped. He had reached too far, his fingertips were brushing the back of Makoto’s hand. His hand was warm, and soft, and Haru could feel the tendons and the slight movement and suddenly he couldn’t move. Makoto was just so  _ real _ . So real and warm and  _ living _ . Haru wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed before he snatched his hand away.

 

“I’m sorry!” he blurted. “I just meant it’s fine um… it’s my treat this time.” Haru could feel his face burning, he refused to meet Makoto’s eyes. The silence was deafening, and Haru had the sudden desire to crawl within himself and disappear, but instead he remained standing behind the counter, feeling more visible than he could ever remember feeling. After a second that seemed to Haru to last at least a day and a half Makoto picked the coins back up and slipped them into his pocket. 

 

“Thanks,” he said, and it was so quiet Haru almost missed it. He looked up. Makoto looked a bit confused, and he was staring at the hand that Haru had touched. He glanced up at Haru, his mouth half open, and then, as if on impulse, reached his own hand back across the counter to where Haru’s had retreated. His fingers slipped into the spaces between Haru’s easily. His hand was strong. Haru gulped and looked down at their hands. He could feel his breath quicken. Makoto gave his fingers a slight squeeze.

 

“Thank you,” he repeated seriously, “thank you for the coffee. See you tomorrow!” Then he smiled and slipped his hand away. He grabbed his coffee and walked away, shooting another easy smile over his shoulder.

 

“Bye,” Haru managed as the door swung shut. 

 

The rest of the morning was a daze, and when Haru finally had a moment to sit down he immediately felt his face burn red. He has held his hand. Makoto had  _ held _ his  _ hand. _ One side of Haru, the rational side, argued that it probably didn’t mean much. Makoto seemed like a pretty affectionate person, and he probably was just thanking Haru for the coffee. The other side of Haru was fixated on how strong and soft and large Makoto’s hand had been. How right his fingers had felt nestled between Haru’s. He spent a good two minutes just staring at his hand, feeling a ghost of the warmth Makoto’s hand had left. It was maybe two o’clock, and the lunch rush had just ended. Haru found himself with several hours of afternoon in which he had no orders to fill, and with a lull in customers he had nothing to do. 

 

Haru was restless. He doodled on his yellow legal pad, finishing his previous sketch of Makoto’s glasses before trying to capture the dips and planes of Makoto’s knuckles. He gave up after a few minutes and went back into the kitchen. 

 

He remembered Makoto coming in with a thank-you card full of childish signatures, how he had bought an apple turnover and ate it so slowly and carefully. Haru took an apple out of the refrigerator and began preheating the oven. As he cut the apple into thin, curling strips he thought of a pastry he had only ever seen pictures of. He was pretty sure it had catholic origins, though it reminded him forcefully of vegetable carving. He had never attempted the recipe, but thinking of Makoto eating that apple turnover made him want to.

 

He cut the apple into thin strips, sprinkling them with lemon and sugar and cinnamon. He stretched out pastry dough, wrapping it around the apple slices which he had curled together. He put half a dozen of his small creations on a cookie sheet and slid them into the oven. A few minutes later he pulled it out, looking with satisfaction at the six apple pastries that so resembled roses in their shape. He smiled and sprinkled them with powdered sugar. 

 

Feeling less restless he left the pastries to cool in a sunny patch on the counter and headed back out to the main part of the shop. He spent the rest of the day serving pastries and coffee and doodling increasingly bad pictures of Makoto’s hands on his yellow legal pad. Haru found himself smiling as he locked up for the night.

* * *

 

Tuesday morning Haru rushed through preparations for the day and opened up at 7:00, a whole half hour early. The night before he had put the rose-shaped apple pastries in a little box, and when he opened up the bakery he put the box next to the coffee machine and glanced at it nervously until 7:27 when the first customers began arriving. He sold a coffee to a woman with tired eyes and half a dozen scones to an old man who paid in exact change. He told a different young woman that he was sorry, but he didn’t sell tea. Once she had left Haru began wondering if maybe he should sell tea. He decided to look into it. Someone asked at least once a week and it would be a nice addition. 

 

At 7:39 Haru looked again at the little box next to the coffee machine and wondered if he could go through with his intentions for it. 

 

At 7:43 Makoto walked through the door. Haru had thought he would be fine. Had thought he was prepared to see him again. He had been, to put it lightly, very wrong. His heart hammered in his chest and he had to force his eyes away from the countertop. When he finally managed to meet Makoto’s eyes he looked maddeningly calm. He was smiling like he always did and approaching the register at a pace that seemed to Haru to be really a bit too leisurely. 

 

“Hi,” Makoto said while somehow maintaining his perfect smile. 

 

“Hi,” Haru whispered back. If possible Makoto smiled wider.

 

“One coffee please,” he said, breaking eye contact to reach into his pocket for his wallet. Haru began preparing Makoto’s coffee. Luckily by this point he knew the order by heart because he was having a silent argument with himself and paying almost no attention to the coffee. He set the warm cup down in front of Makoto and was for a moment seized with an almost giddy fear that Makoto would try to take his hand again. He didn’t, and instead waited until Haru’s hand was well out of reach before picking up his coffee. Haru didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved. Makoto put a few coins down on the counter.

 

“Thanks,” he said. Haru nodded and began the silent argument with himself again. Makoto smiled again and turned to leave.

 

“Makoto,” Haru began before he was fully aware of what he was doing. Makoto turned around more quickly than Haru thought possible.

 

“Yes?” he said. Haru took a deep breath, there was no backing out now.

 

“I, um, I was trying out a new recipe and um,” Haru took another breath, “I was wondering if you wanted to to try any of the new pastries because I’m not sure if they’re any good,” he finished quickly. That wasn’t what he really meant, because what he meant was  _ I baked you apple roses because the first thing you ate from this bakery had apple in it _ , but he didn’t think he quite dared. Makoto opened and closed his mouth for a moment before speaking.

 

“Yes of course,” Makoto said after a moment, “I’m sure whatever it is, it will be wonderful.” Haru felt a weight lift from his chest and reached beside the coffee machine for the small box of pastries. He put them in front of Makoto and then put his arms down to his sides, feeling that if his hands were on the counter they would betray his nervousness. Makoto ghosted his fingers over the edge of the box before reaching into his pocket and again pulling out his wallet.

 

“How much -” he began but Haru immediately jumped in, his hands flying above the counter to stop him.

 

“No, no, I… I mean, you don’t owe me anything,” Haru looked down only to find that his hands had again drifted dangerously close to Makoto’s. 

 

“I mean,” Haru began again, “I just made them to make them not to sell and I… I don’t even know if they are any good,” Haru realized with surprise that he was babbling, he couldn’t remember ever babbling before, and yet now he couldn’t seem to stop. “You don’t owe me any money because you would probably be doing me a favor, I mean, yeah,” he shut his mouth and let his hands fall to the countertop. He felt monumentally stupid.  _ I made them for you as a gift,  _ he wanted to say,  _ I made them as a gift for you because I like you and I have no idea how to say that. _ Instead Haru fixed his eyes on a long scratch in the counter and didn’t say anything. A second passed, then another one. After a third Makoto spoke.

 

“Thank you,” he said. Haru heard Makoto’s fingers brush the top of the box. Another second, then: “can I open them?” Makoto asked. Haru looked up.

 

“Of course,” he said. Makoto smiled and slowly pushed the box open. Haru wanted to watch Makoto’s face but at the same time found it absolutely impossible so he settled for glancing back between Makoto and the countertop. It was at a moment when Haru’s eyes were on the counter that Makoto made a small gasp, almost imperceptible, just the barest intake of breath. Haru looked up. Makoto had propped the lid of the box up, and was looking inside. It struck Haru how small it looked between Makoto’s hands. Makoto looked up to meet Haru’s eyes, then back down at the contents of the box.

 

“They’re beautiful,” he said. “I don’t… I don’t think I’ve ever seen food this beautiful. I don’t know if I can eat them.” He smiled at Haru. Haru found himself smiling back even as he felt heat flush his face.

 

“Thank you. I made them to be eaten though,” Haru said.  _ I want to cook for you _ he thought, but didn’t say anything more. 

 

“Then I guess I will have to try,” Makoto said. He took another look at the rose shaped pastries and then closed the lid gently. He picked up the box and cradled it in both hands, his coffee forgotten on the counter beside him. 

 

“Haru,” Makoto began, his ears turning pink, “th-thank you. Thank you very much.”

 

“Um, sure,” Haru said in a small voice. 

 

“I, uh,” Makoto looked down, “I have to go but um, see you tomorrow?”

 

“Yes, tomorrow. I’ll… see you,” Haru stammered. Makoto smiled and turned to go.

 

“Wait!” Haru said. Makoto turned. “Don’t… don’t forget your coffee,” Haru said. Something akin to disappointment flashed in Makoto’s eyes, but a moment later he smiled and Haru was convinced he had imagined it. 

 

“Thanks,” Makoto said, grabbing his coffee and walked to the door. He pushed it open with his shoulder and threw another smile over his shoulder. Haru mouthed ‘bye’ and watched until Makoto was out of view of the bakery window. Once he could no longer see his receding back Haru slumped forward until his forehead hit the counter in front of him.

 

“I am so fucked,” he muttered against the cold plastic. But he smiled anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again - sorry this is so late! Thank you so much to those who have stuck it out - and honestly for anyone read my writing. Comments are very appreciated! (Especially if I can clarify something/you have a suggestion!)
> 
> My tumblr is lessthanthesumofmyparts if you ever want to come chat or anything!
> 
> Thanks for reading - you have no idea how much this means to me!


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